An Evening with Red
by jessica-bones-winchester
Summary: A nameless OFC reflects on her relationship with Raymond Reddington while they spend an evening together. Sexy fluff.


Raymond always greeted me the same way: his hand at the small of my back and a soft press of his lips to mine.

"I've missed you, my dear," he said as he guided me to the sofa, like it was his apartment, not mine. Though, technically it belonged to him.

"Have you? You moved me here a year ago and I can count on one hand how many times I've seen you."

"I've been busy."

He removed his hat and placed it on the coffee table as he sat. He patted the spot beside him. I sat, and he rested his hand on my knee.

"I know. I've seen the news."

"Yeah. But that's over, and I thought to myself, 'where can I go to relax and have a good time,' and here I am."

"Here you are."

I caressed his face and he stared at me with a small smile on his lips.

"How have you been?"

I laughed. "I'm sure you already know the answer to that. I'm guessing that the guard you have on me reports back at least once a week."

"I'm just making conversation."

"Well, stop."

Raymond's eye twitched. "Have I angered you in some way?"

"No, baby." I ran my hand down his neck to rest on his chest. "If you want to talk, let's talk. Don't ask me questions you already know the answers to, or chat about mundane things. You always do that when you come to see me."

"Do what?"

"Put off what we both know you're here for... what we both want."

"I don't come here just for that."

"Okay."

"I don't. That's exactly why I talk to you. I don't ever want you to think that I'm using you, like he-"

I pressed two fingers to his lips. "I believe you."

He kissed my fingers, then moved my hand to his cheek. "Good." He leaned back and pulled into his arms. "Did I ever tell you about the time I was on this little island-"

"No... No stories."

"I can't ask how you are. I can't tell you a story. What can I say?"

I nuzzled into his neck and he leaned his head toward mine.

"If you can't think of something to talk about, maybe we shouldn't talk."

His lips brushed my cheek. "What do you want to talk about?"

"What made you decide to come see me?"

I unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt while I kissed his neck. His hand was splayed across my back. His eyes fluttered open and closed as he spoke.

"I was telling an associate of mine that I never enjoyed the high of narcotics. I much prefer the small of a back, the swell of a breast..." His hand moved into my hair at the base of my skull. "The nape of a neck. I thought of you. The image was so vivid I could taste you."

I sighed and he pulled my lips to his. He kissed me like a man who had his favorite desert, enjoying and savoring every bit.

"Are you saying I'm your drug?"

Once I got his shirt open I ran my fingers through his chest hair.

"No," he said. "You're better." He shifted in his seat. "I think we should move this into the bedroom."

I pulled back and smiled at him. "Wasn't this conversation better?"

"Much."

Raymond liked to take his time. He loved caressing every inch of me, and tasting every part. I always guessed it was his way of trying to make up for my previous life; the life he saved me from when he killed the head of a powerful sex slave trade. That man owned me.

When Raymond touched me, always with affection, it was a stark contrast to the man who used me only to fulfill his urges. A man who would sometimes beat me as foreplay. A man who had me on his arm at a party that fateful night only because his wife was not allowed near his business. I think Raymond would have let him live that night if he hadn't walked in on him punching me in the side. Never in the face. That would damage the appeal of his goods.

Raymond mouthed at my breasts as we moved together. He never rushed. Maybe it wasn't just for me. Maybe it was for him, too. His life was fast and dangerous, full of violence and chaos. Maybe this was his escape. This was a place where he could let go; where he knew he was safe in my arms, because I would never betray him. I owed him my life, and would gladly give it for him. Especially when his tongue was on me. That crooked little smile hid a wicked tongue.

Raymond kissed my neck as he shuddered, and I knew he was holding back. He would make sure I was first. He was generous that way.

Our first time together he warned me not to expect much from an old man. He didn't tell me how old, but I figured he had fifteen, maybe twenty years on me. Not old by any means, but no longer in his prime. I never saw a difference. Ever. Especially not now when his hips rolled against mine, hitting just the right spot.

He never rolled off of me right away. He kissed my neck, caressed my face, and raked his fingers through my hair before he fell onto his back and pulled me to his side. I draped my leg over his. As I shifted to press my face into his neck, Raymond turned onto his side just enough to wrap me in his arms. I felt safe there. I felt wanted. Not as a possession, but like a treasure.

"You're quiet," I said. "What are you thinking?"

"There was this boat in-"

"Nuh uh. Raymond, you know I can tell when you're side-stepping. What are you thinking about?"

"The night we met. I often wonder what made him hit you that way that night."

"He never needed an excuse to hit me."

"No. It was risky. He had clients there. I scan the room in my mind, searching my memory for what you could have done to make him so angry."

"I didn't do anything."

"I'm sorry," he said as he kissed my head. "I didn't mean that you did. Just... what triggered him? I watched you all night and I never saw anything."

"Let it go, Raymond. It's the past. You saved me."

He lifted my face to look at him. "I know you know why he did it. Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It does matter. It matters to me."

"Raymond... please."

"I have to know."

He hadn't been that insistent in years, and I knew I couldn't keep it from him any longer.

"He said it was my fault, because men were looking at me."

Raymond shook his head. "Jealousy. He brought you so men _would_ look at you and be jealous of _him_."

"There was one man in particular. He said that man looked at me too long."

Raymond closed his eyes and shook his head. "No."

"I didn't want to tell you."

"It was me."

"I begged you to let it go."

He tried to get up, but I held onto him and he pulled me closer.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm not."

"I'm so sorry."

I pulled back and held his face to look into his eyes.

"Were you going to kill him that night?"

"It was likely."

"But not definite."

"No."

"No. If he hadn't hit me that night, you wouldn't have seen. He would still be alive, and I might still belong to him. I would still be suffering, as would dozens of other young girls and women. You saved me. You saved us all."

Raymond shook his head. "I'm sorry."

I sighed. "I accept your apology, as unnecessary as it is." I trailed my fingers over his cheek, and he grabbed my hand and held it against his face. "Dembe will be calling soon for you to leave. Let's think of something more pleasant."

"Do you know why I always talk with you first, when I know our time is short?"

"Why?"

"I never wanted you to feel like we had to have sex. I would come to check on you and talk to you, and if we ended up in bed? Great. If not... that was okay."

"But we always do end up in bed since our first night together. I prefer talking after. You're more relaxed, Raymond. And I love being in your arms."

He kissed my forehead. "I love having you in my arms."

I laced our fingers together and Raymond kissed along my jaw.

"I love you, Raymond."

He froze.

"I don't expect you to say it back. And I'm not naive enough to believe you haven't been with other women. You have a reputation with the ladies."

He whispered my name, but I ignored it.

"I just want you to know that I love you. I need you to know that."

He pulled back and looked into my eyes, then reached for his phone on the night stand. He waited just a moment for the other person to pick up.

"Dembe, cancel the rest of my evening and anything tomorrow before noon. I'll be spending the night."

He disconnected the call.

"Raymond, you didn't have to-"

"Did I ever tell you about the night I first kissed you?"

"You don't have to tell me. I was there."

"I don't think I've ever been more nervous about kissing a woman. I was so worried that you would think I was only interested in what he was interested in."

"I have to admit, for a while I wandered if I'd ever let anyone touch me again."

Lying on our sides, he pulled me tight into his arms and pressed his forehead to mine. His breath fanned over my lips.

"When I realized you had been flirting with me the few visits before, I knew I had to kiss you. The night we first met, I thought you were one of the most gorgeous creatures I had ever seen. You still are."

He pressed his lips to mine and brushed my hair back from my face.

"So, that first night I kissed you-"

"You made me dinner."

"And we sat and talked a while."

"And then you kissed me. Tell me about the night we first made love."

"Oh, that night I was confident."

I smiled. "Were you?"

"I knew... I knew by the way you looked at me that you wanted me as much as I wanted you. The way you touched me."

"How did I touch you?" I whispered.

"Your hand on my arm... on my thigh when we sat. The way you pretended to wipe desert from my mouth with your thumb."

I blushed. "How did you know I was pretending?"

"I didn't. You just confirmed the suspicion."

I punched his arm, and he laughed, but his smile faded the longer he stared.

"I had to know what you felt like... what you taste like."

"And what do I taste like?"

He grinned and moved down beneath the sheet. I felt his lips brush over me in a kiss before he crawled back up my body. He touched his lips to mine, then deepened the kiss, letting my tongue slide over his lips.

When he pulled away he stayed on top of me.

"I find that first hand experience is better than any description. Especially when describing taste. And especially when that taste is so exquisite."

I slipped my hand between us and his eyes fluttered closed.

"Make love to me again."

"'Again' would imply that I stopped. Every touch, every look... that's me making love to you. My mind sees it play out."

"I want to feel it."

He rolled his hips against mine, and I moaned.

"Sometimes," he said, "when I'm resting my eyes, or trying to sleep, I think of holding you... of kissing you. Being with you reminds me of good things. Simple things. The night we met, before everything happened, I was going to make a play for you."

"You were?"

"Yeah. The moment I saw you," he said as he nuzzled my neck and our bodies joined again, "I wanted you."

"You have me."


End file.
